


Be Alone

by RobinTheArtist



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Before Scorpion, Hurt Walter, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Protective Toby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:52:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2889221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinTheArtist/pseuds/RobinTheArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Toby finds Walter drugged at a party (pre-Scorpion era) and comes to the rescue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>How many drinks have you had?” Toby asked, taking the near-empty cup from Walter's fingers. Walter looked confused by the question, and that was another red flag. “Walter, how many drinks?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Just the one,” Walter answered dazedly, almost like a question. Toby quirked a brow, looking at the cup.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Suddenly, Toby had a terrible idea of what happened, and looked back at his friend. “Did you leave your drink alone?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Alone

Toby had lost Walter about an hour into the party. At first, he wasn't concerned, because Walter was a genius, who asserted that he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Toby, being the younger boy's housemate and practically his babysitter, knew that Walter was full of shit. But he was technically an adult, having celebrated his eighteenth birthday a month before, and the legal independence (as well as the fact that he couldn't be dragged back to his parents house for any reason) was going straight to his head. Walter had spent some time hanging around Toby, watching him clean out the impromptu poker game set up in the basement, before he deserted the gambler, slinking up the stairs for some action. After another half hour, Toby decided that he'd had enough and cashed out, tracing his friends path from earlier.

Upstairs was an entirely different scene. While the basement was well lit and the sound was muffled, upstairs was dark and pulsing with so much sound that Toby was instantly worried for his genius friend. Walter sometimes got sensory overload while coding, and those were the times where Toby would find the younger boy curled up in the back of his closet. Toby himself was thrown back by the sudden cacophony, instantly scanning the crowd for his friend.

He found him after another twenty minutes, leaning back against a counter and talking to someone. He had a red cup in his hands, but he was holding it oddly, like he didn't have full control over his fingers, and Toby noticed that Walter's body language was much more open and relaxed than when they'd arrived.

Which of course meant something was wrong. Toby made his way over, each step exposing more of the scene. Walter was talking to a guy, a taller, athletic looking male that kept looking down at Walter's lip as he spook. His own drink sat on the counter beside him, untouched looking, and that sent off more than a few red flags to the behaviorist. Toby had to check this guy out, make sure Walter is okay.

“Oh I'm so sorry,” Toby said when he “accidentally” knocked into Walter, making the boy spill his drink down his conversationalists shirt front. The older male jumped back, loudly swearing, but Toby had already pulled Walter back, steadying him on his feet. “Dude, my bad, didn't see you there, are you-”

“Get lost, asshole,” the guy huffed, pushing Toby's shoulder. The behaviorist held his hands up in defeat, while the older boy swore again, before turning to look at Walter. “I'll be right back, don't go anywhere.”

He left, and Toby took that as he chance to talk to his friend, but several things immediately caught his eye. First, an most important, Walters eyes were glazed over, like he was dazed, and his face was open, unguarded. Walter didn't do relaxed. He was always a taut bowstring, nervous and tense even around Toby, who'd been his friend and roommate for an entire year. But now, he looked almost asleep. No wonder it was so easy to knock Walter's cup out of his hands, the kid was out of it.

“How many drinks have you had?” Toby asked, taking the near-empty cup from Walter's fingers. Walter looked confused by the question, and that was another red flag. “Walter, how many drinks?”

“Just the one,” Walter answered dazedly, almost like a question. Toby quirked a brow, looking at the cup.

Suddenly, Toby had a terrible idea, and looked back at his friend. “Did you leave your drink alone?”

“What?”

Toby grabbed his friends shoulders, his voice a serious near-whisper. “Did you leave your drink alone?”

Walter blinked heavily, tilting his head in thought. “Andrew offered to watch my drink while I went to the bathroom.”

Toby swore, looking back at Andrew's drink. It was full, untouched, and that was the last straw he needed. It was obvious what had happened. Walter, innocent kid he was, had never been taught to keep an eye on his drink, never been told to be careful of who he flirted with at a party (Toby knew Walter was bisexual, the kid couldn't hide anything from Toby, he was a terrible liar), and god, Toby hated Walter's parents for never talking to him about this kind of stuff. (He also hated Gallo, whoever he was, because Walter had terrible nightmares and would scream that name. But Toby hated Walter's parents more.)

“Walter, we're going home,” Toby said, putting his arm around Walter's shoulders and leading him away from the crowded kitchen and out into the front room, pushing through groups of people.

“But Andrew said-”

“Andrew's not a good guy, Walt, think about what he said,” Toby told the dark haired boy, practically gluing the kid to his side. Walt pursed his lips, remaining silent long enough for Toby to push through the crowds and get to the door. Outside, the crisp fall air seemed to help sober Walt up just enough for him to start using that big brain of his.

“When I came back from the bathroom, my drink tasted a little different,” Walter thought out loud, looking up at Toby. “I think he drugged me, Toby.”

The behaviorist nodded sadly, holding Walt a little closer. “Yeah, I'm sorry about that dude, I should've paid more attention-”

“Right before you came over, he was talking about introducing me to a couple friends,” Walter near-whispered. Toby froze, turned towards Walter, who was starting to drift. 

“Walter, what do you mean by that?”

“Hmm,” the boy turned to look at his friend, before answering, “he said he had some friends waiting by the stairs that would really want to meet me.”

Toby turned on his heel, dragging Walter back toward the house. The boy stumbled after him, making confused noises, and Toby stopped in the front lawn, looking around. He saw two girls sitting on the front porch, laughing at something, and walked up to them.

“Hey, my friend left something inside, would you mind if I left him here with you and grabbed it?” He sent one of the girls a pleading look. She looked over at Walter, at his dazed face, then back at Toby, and seemed to read something from his face, because she nodded, patting the space beside her. Toby set Walter down, who seemed rather malleable at this point, a fact that worried Toby to no end. “Stay here, okay? I'm going to come back and get you.” Walter agreed, and one of the girls looked towards him with an all-too-knowing eye and nodded to him, silently promising to watch over Walter. Toby sent her a thankful look, before marching back into the home, to where he last saw Andrew. The boy was back at the counter, apparently just arriving by the look he gave the empty space. Toby approached the boy, who had his back turned, and tapped him on the shoulder. 

The moment Andrew turned around, Toby punched him in the face so hard his hand ached. Andrew flew back, smacking bodily into the counter, clutching his nose. “You ever try anything like that again and I will cut your dick off,” Toby roared, and somewhere behind him the music cut off and the room went silent. Toby felt like he was in some type of movie, the badass protagonist standing up for his friend. 

And then Andrew stood up and his friends came forward, and Tony turned on his heel and sprinted out of there. Where Toby was skinny and could slip through the crowds easily, Andrew and his friends were a lot bulkier, and had trouble following. Toby burst out the front door, spotting Walter on the porch and grabbing the near-asleep boy and tossing the boy onto his shoulder, thanking the girls after jumping off the porch, sprinting into the night. He heard yells behind him, but no one was able to outrun Toby, who spent his entire life running from bullies. Even Walter's weight didn't slow him down, although that had more to do with Walter weighing so little. Toby would've been worried if he weren't currently running for both of their lives. (He was going to be so worried about it later, when Walter forgot to eat while coding and Toby realized that Walter never remembered to eat.)

Finally, they lost them. Toby adjusted Walter, off his shoulder and into a more sensible, bridal carry. The boy was asleep, his head lolling onto Toby's shoulder as the behaviorist finished carrying the boy back to their apartment, paid for by Walter's hacking and Toby's gambling. He managed to get Walter upstairs with little troubled, but ended up jossling him around a bit to get the door to their apartment open, accidentally waking the boy, who stared, dazed and confused, at Toby's face. “Wha-”

“It's okay, Walter, we're home,” Toby told the genius, who nodded dutifully, raising up a hand to grab onto the behaviorist's shirt. 

“'m sorry, Tob,” Walt slurred, closing his eyes.

Toby quirked a brow. “What're you sorry for, Walt?” He moved into their shared room, setting Walter down on his bed. He had to follow him, since Walt's hand was still clutching his shirt, and wound up sitting against the wall with Walter resting against his shoulder. (Years later, they'd fall asleep like this on their couch, with his other arm curled around Happy's waist, and it would just feel _right. _)__

__“Shoulda known he was a bad guy, shoulda stopped-”_ _

__“It's not your fault, Walter,” Toby said, wrapping one arm around Walter's shoulders and holding him close. “It's that guy's fault.”_ _

__“But I'm supposed to see everything,” Walter sobbed into Toby's chest, clenching his fist in the behaviorists shirt. “I'm supposed to be the genius that knows all of this and helps people.”_ _

__Toby knows this isn't really Walt. This is drugged, exhausted, emotionally- crippled Walter, and in the morning he probably wouldn't even remember this. But Toby couldn't just let Walter cry himself to sleep over this. (And if he managed to pull some information out of this kid, who was a veritable Fort Knox of secrets, then that was inconsequential.)_ _

__“Walter, you don't have to be perfect. Who told you that?”_ _

__Walter sniffled, looking up at Toby. “Gallo,” he answered, scrubbing at his eyes. “Dad.”_ _

__Toby just held Walter tighter, letting the boy sob into his shoulder. Eventually, Walter drifted back into an uneasy sleep, Toby still holding onto him. This is how they both fell asleep, curled up against the wall, a million problems kept barely at bay by troubled slumber._ _

__(Years later, Scorpion would form, and there problems would seem galaxies away. When that happened, Toby would hold his two favorite people in the world close and everything would be okay.)_ _


End file.
